Snow from the Forest
by SjelThief
Summary: After meeting an old friend, Lossiel finds herself in the company of four main heroes. Stealth one of her few fortes, she shall contribute to the original story in a hopefully unexpected and fun fashion as she struggles with issues she thinks she can 'cure', but she is too stubborn to realize that she tries so in vain. Eventual Legolas/OC, hopefully not a Mary Sue.
1. Chapter One - The Hidden Elf-Woman

**A.N.** **Here's to my first OC fic! I'm more used to write x reader oneshots, so yeah... I did a lot of research before writing this, so I hope everything turned out alright. Heads up, the first chapter is much like the book, but I'll try and only write about things that could change, or that my OC has relevance it it. If I can't do that, you'll find out how I'll make it work in the next part. :3 Stick around! 3**

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**Chapter One ~ The Hidden Elf-Woman**

_"Halflings!" a worried feminine voice barely echoed through the bloody battle, but it was muffled too quickly for said hobbits to hear. _

_The same voice muffled a cry of smarting pain, and the female ignored the warm liquid dripping from her scalp. Luck seemed to smile upon her as she managed to get back on her weakened feet, and she followed the faint sound of rather large, but light, feet pounding on the ground. The rough sounds of the battle were still ringing in her sensitive leaf-shaped ears, but she could still make out the halflings' footsteps. Thing was, they were getting fainter with each second. _

_Shaking her head to clear her dizzy thoughts, her long blonde locks sticking onto her sweat-covered face, she ran in the comforting tree line as she realized the two had run into the nearby forest. She felt incredibly stupid to have underestimated her foes, hence her rough shape, but the horsemen had made all of her sneaking attempts in vain; she had found herself in the middle of the battlefield when war had broken out._

_Feeling weaker and weaker — the harsh blow to the head previously delivered to her considerably weakened her — she didn't even react when she tripped and fell upon thick unearthed tree roots. She scrambled back to her feet, only to fall back down to the ground a few moments later. What was wrong with her? Dizziness finally stetted over her sprawled form, covering the world around her in a thick black veil._

The air circulating in Fangorn Forest was thick, but nothing you couldn't get accustomed to after a while. As for Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli, all of whom were searching after the two previously-mentioned Hobbits, they still couldn't say they had grown used to it. This is why, once they reached a bare hill in the forest — one that fashioned a stony wall — they decided to climb it. It almost seemed like the stones were in fact stairs, but stairs that had been created by the forces of nature for they were uneven and far from smooth.

Legolas was the first to express his desire to climb such hill, and the two others quickly agreed afterwards. Aragorn walked last, slowly, scanning the footholds as he told them he had the feeling Pippin and Merry had gotten up here as well, but there were also strange tracks on which he couldn't put his finger.

"Look!" said Legolas, gaze glued in one direction, a few moments after they had reached the top and were looking around.

"Look at what?" replied Gimli, turning his head to look in that same direction.

"There, in the trees." the Elf told him, not tearing his gaze away.

"Where? I have not elf-eyes."

"Hush! Speak more softly! Look!" Legolas told him, as he now pointed in the direction that had greatly piqued his interest. "Down in the woods, back in the way that we have just come. It is he." He was referring to the old man they had briefly seen near their camp the previous night. "Cannot you see him, passing from tree to tree?"

"I see, I see now!" Gimli harshly hissed before he turned towards the Ranger. "Look, Aragorn! Did I not warn you? There is the old man. All in dirty grey rags: that is why I could not see him at first."

The Ranger turned his gaze back towards where they came, and he watched as a figure was heading their way. It was slowly, but surely, gaining ground over them. It indeed seem to be an old man — a beggar, even — who was using an old and rugged staff as support, as if years were heavy on his shoulders. His head was bowed, his hat also hiding his face, and his attention didn't seem to be on them. Silence was heavy around them, and they didn't dare greet him with kind words in these troubled times and unfamiliarly odd lands. There seemed to be more to this than what was obvious, powerful things, even, but for good or ill, the three couldn't tell.

Gimli stared at the slowly-approaching elderly man, gaze widened to moons, only to quickly snap from his trance. It was as if a bubble had been bursted, for he cried out, "Your bow, Legolas! Bend it! Get ready! It is Saruman. Do not let him speak, or up a spell upon us! Shoot first!"

Legolas seemed to be on the same wavelength for he took his bow and indeed bent it. But it painfully took him time to do so. It was as if something else willed otherwise. He held a green-feathered arrow, but only loosely as he didn't even properly string it. Aragorn, on the other hand, stood silent and watchful. It seemed as though he didn't truly know how to properly assess the current situation.

"What are you waiting? What is the matter with you?" Gimli shot the Wood-Elf in a harsh whisper. He only briefly glanced at him before he turned his attention back towards the old man.

"Legolas is right," quietly cut in Aragorn. He didn't look away. "We may not shoot an old man so, at unawares and unchallenged, whatever fear or doubt be on us. Watch and wait!"

What they didn't know, nor would they for some more time, was that a certain female Elf was watching the three travellers from the nearby canopy. She wasn't hindered by the elderly man, nor should she, since he was the reason she was currently able to even stand. In fact, she had found the trio and led him to them, keeping a low profile as he had instructed her.

The old man's pace then accelerated, and he reached the rocky wall with surprising speed. He craned his back upwards to look at the trio who was gazing down at him. He wore a hood underneath his hat, so even then they could not see his features, safe for the tip of his nose and his long grey beard. Silence still ruled over them, and it didn't seem ready to leave them be just yet.

"Well met indeed, my friends," the old man broke at last, his soft voice echoing through the forest. "I wish to speak to you. Will you come down, or shall I come up?" he then asked, but when his sentence ended he immediately started to work his way up the strange stairs.

"Now!" Gimli cried. "Stop him, Legolas!"

The Elf didn't even move before the old man said, "Did I not say that I wished to speak to you? Put away that bow, Master Elf!"

The bow and arrow fell from the Wood-Elf's grasp, gently hitting the ground next to his feet in a soft thud. He arms were relaxed as his side, hung loose, as he kept his gaze glued on the old man.

"And you, Master Dwarf, pray take your hand from your axe-haft, till I am up! You will not need such arguments."

Gimli obeyed, strangely, as he too kept his gaze glued on the intruder as he kept climbing the rough stairs. He didn't seem weary anymore. The only thing resonating in the regained silence was the Dwarf's sharp intake of breath, which was loud in the current stillness.

The old man had reached the top of the hill when he said, "Well met, I say again!" He walked towards them, not even furtively glancing once in the hidden Elf's direction — for it would have immediately given her away. He stood before them, a few feet away, and he watched them from under his hood. "And what may you be doing in these parts? An Elf, a Man, and a Dwarf, all clad in Elvish fashion. No doubt there is a tale worth hearing behind it all. Such things are not often seen here."

"You speak as one that knows Fangorn well," cautiously started Aragorn, not answering his question. "Is that so?"

"Not well," he replied, as his thoughts briefly veered towards the hidden female elf. "That would be the study of many lives. But I come here now and again."

"Might we know your name, and then hear what is it that you have to say to us?" asked Aragorn, starting to get a little impatient. "The morning passes, and we have an errand that will not wait."

"As for what I wished to say, I have said it: What may you be doing, and what tale can you tell of yourselves? As for my name!" His soft laugh broke him off, which oddly affected the Ranger. It seemed... familiar, and yet not simultaneously. "My name!" the old man repeated. "Have you not guessed it already? But come now, what of your tale?"

Silence once again ruled over them.

"There are some who would begin to doubt whether your errand is fit to tell," said the old man, breaking the silence once more. It seemed to be his newfound habit. "Happily I know something of it. You are tracking hobbits, I believe. Well, they climbed up here the day before yesterday; and they met someone that they did not expect. Does that comfort you? Let us sit down and be more at ease."

That's when he turned away from the trio, towards the cliff behind him, and he headed towards a few fallen stones. As he did so, the three relaxed and stirred, as if they had all just been released from some spell. Gimli's good hand flew to his trusty axe, Aragorn drew his sharp sword and Legolas picked up his strong bow, without forgetting the arrow he had also dropped.

The old man either didn't notice any of this or simply didn't care, for he gently sat on a low flat stone. His white garments were then exposed, his grey cloak drawn apart, and the three drew connections in their minds that they only doubted until then.

"Saruman!" cried Gimli, springing towards him as he held his axe high in his hands, as some kind of threat. "Speak! Tell us what have you done with our friends! Speak, or I will make a dint in your hat that even a wizard will find it hard to deal with!"

The old man had anticipated it, somehow, and swiftly got to his feet. He stood tall on top of the flat rock on which he was previously sitting, his grey garb and hood flung away from him. His white clothing brightly shone. In quick motions, he lifted up his staff and Gimli's axe was ripped from his grasp, sent farther away, and its sharpened end dug in the soil. Aragorn's blade grew red-hot, as of it was set ablaze from the inside, and he had to let it go since it burned his flesh. As for Legolas, he shot the arrow he had been previously stalling, but it never reached its target for it burst in flames in mid-air.

Still hiding, the other Elf tensed up, wondering if she should intervene. Once she noticed no harm had been made to the elderly fellow, she relaxed. She made few sounds in the canopy, sounds easily picked up by Elven hearing, but she decided to remain in hiding nonetheless.

"Mithrandir!" the Elf cried, as sudden realization struck him. "Mithrandir!" he repeated. He hadn't even noticed the odd sounds coming from the trees.

"Well met, I say to you again, Legolas." the old man replied, even if the other hadn't told him his name during their short conversation. He hadn't even yet spoken a word prior to his exclamation.

The trio stared at him again, but with a much different light. None dared to speak. The old man's hair was as white as snow, like the colour of his robes. His eyes, brightly shining under his voluminous brow, were mightily piercing. No, it's not that none dared to speak, it was more like none knew what to say, what words to use. Smiling, the hidden Elf was content with watching from afar — well, she wasn't that far. She was beaming, though.

"Gandalf!" Aragorn finally uttered, shaken from his loss for words. "Beyond all hope you return to us in our need! What veil was over my sight? Gandalf!"

Gimli didn't say anything, but he did sink to his knees in a deep bow.

"Gandalf..." the old man repeated for himself, as of he had forgotten it, but had been trying to recall it for a while. "Yes, that was the name. I was Gandalf."

He stepped down from his rocky perch. He picked up his grey cloak and wrapped it back around him."Yes, you may still call me Gandalf," he told them, as his old voice — Gandalf's voice — echoed instead. He turned his attention towards the deeply bowing Dwarf. "Get up, my good Gimli! No blame to you, and no harm done to me. Be merry! We meet again."

As he laid his hand on Gimli's head, the Dwarf gazed upwards and laughed. "Gandalf!" he exclaimed. "But you are all in white!"

"Yes, I am white now," he replied, with a nod. "Indeed, I am Saruman. Saruman as he should have been." His gaze then wandered towards the hidden Elf-Woman. "You can come out now, Lossiel, the misunderstanding has been straightened out."

With a nod none but Gandalf saw, she dropped down from the tree in which she hid and swiftly climbed the odd stairs she knew so well. The trio quickly turned around, another person the least of what they could expect more, and simply stared at her as she, in turn, nervously stared at her own two feet, observing the curves in the soft, but durable dark leather of her boots. They only knew that she was Elvish, and on their side.

After a few uncomfortable seconds, she bee-lined to Gandalf's side, who chuckled, and that's when the trio noticed the fresh scar near her golden scalp. She bore long locks, which went down to the lower-middle section of her back. Her hair was split unevenly about her head, and would hide half of her face if she hadn't cut it in a steep oblique line, starting from above her brow to her jaw, near the base of her ear. She had one warrior braid, which was made on the side from which less hair fell down to her back. Her irises were shaded a dark navy blue, and they seemed dull. To her shoulders clung an Elvish cloak, much like theirs, but its brooch was different.

"Do not be troubled by her, my friends. She has proven herself a noble ally — as a matter of fact, she was the one who first located you! She wished to lend a hand, and a hand she shall lend us, I trust." Gandalf told them, which made them tear their curious gazes from her. She was immensely grateful of this. "But come now! Tell me of yourselves! I have forgotten much that I thought I knew, and learned again much that I had forgotten. Tell me of yourselves!"

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**A.N.**** Told you! XD Anyways, I know there isn't much to base yourself on yet, but what do you think of Lossiel so far? If you have any tips, or things you'd like — or would hate — to see take place, I'd be glad if you informed me of them. Go ahead if you wish to give me any criticism, which I know I need! :3**

**Disclaimer: Anything you can recognize isn't mine, I'm just writing this for kicks. :3**


	2. Chapter Two - The Ride to Edoras

**Chapter Two ~ The Ride to Edoras**

It was odd for Lossiel to currently find herself with members of humanoid species. She had simply spent way too much of her time lately amongst the Ents, giant tree-like beings that were anything but quick. Okay, maybe except for Quickbeam, but he was a rare exception.

Going back to the story, they all were riding with speed towards Edoras. Gandalf had taken Gimli with him on Shadowfax, the strongest of the their three horses, while Aragorn rode on Hasufel. The Wizard had told her to mount Arod with the other Elf since they were both quite light; Arod wouldn't have to struggle with much weight, even if they were two, in their great need of haste. It had been a very long time ever since Lossiel had last mounted a steed so she had been bit nervous when she had attempted to climb Arod's back. Luckily, Legolas had sensed her unease and had helped her up with a small, kind smile. Once she had been sitting, he had loosely wrapped her arms around his torso. He told her that she'd need to hold on unless she wished to fall off. He had said that last part with a teasing edge, one that made her roll her eyes and smile. She had to say that she was grateful for his kindness, seeing as they had just recently met.

Anyways, the scenery was quite nice and long blades of grass even reached the riders' knees once in a while, but the She-Elf's mind reeled with the conversation the group had had just a few hours prior to this moment. They had all been sitting on Fangorn's beloved hill, on flat rocks, back then. After quick introductions, ones that Aragorn had insisted on having, he had began to tell Gandalf the tale of their travel since his fall. The female had sometimes been confused with some of his words, names an example. Sensing it were so, Legolas had given her a few explanations in a voice so hushed and low that only her elven hearing had permitted her to notice and distinguish his words.

She really would have loved to have been with them in Lothlórien. It had been too long since she had last visited the Golden Wood… Even if she hadn't known Boromir, she couldn't have helped but feel a pang of sadness when she had learnt of his demise. As for the two hobbits that had gone missing, she had already known that they were more than safe in the company of Treebeard. She had quietly wished the other two halflings, who had set alone together for Mordor, that they wouldn't have too much trouble in their dangerous journey.

She smiled as she remembered that moment when Gandalf had told the trio of hunters that she had much more knowledge concerning the ancient forest than he did. He even had urged her to respond in his stead to Legolas' question, which had been, "Treebeard: that is only a rendering of Fangorn into the Common Speech; yet you seem to speak of a person. Who is this Treebeard?"

"Treebeard _is_ Fangorn," she had told him, and her gaze had swept to each one that held hers as she had continued, "He is the oldest of the Ents, and this here is his country. Entish is the language we speak, but he knows the Common Speech quite well as well. He is generous in height and kind of heart." She had decided to end her description here, for she hadn't wanted to bore them with an overly-detailed description about the Ent she admired so much.

While she was reminiscing, she also thought about what she had told Aragorn when he had exclaimed his surprise concerning the Tree Herders' existence, one that he had dismissed as nothing more than Rohirric folktales. She had butted in at that time, with a knowing smile, "Tales that turned into rumours, and again into legends. The inevitable process of facts becoming fiction before fading away entirely."

Why with a knowing smile? Because she had once thought the exact same thing, only to have Fangorn himself tell her these same sentences. They really had struck her, for she even remembered them from all these centuries ago.

Lossiel blinked a few times, coming back to the present moment. She turned her head to look at what laid behind her, back towards the ancient forest. She couldn't see it anymore. In fact, she couldn't have for a long while now, but she simply couldn't help herself but look behind once in a while. She already missed it, but that wasn't the main reason why she kept doing so. She had had a bad feeling about the forest for—

The sensation of her right forearm being gently squeezed, as some kind of comforting gesture, pulled her out of her dark thoughts. A half-smile tugged at her lips as she figured that Legolas had both felt her head shift and sensed her worry-ridden thoughts. She also figured that he thought that she was already homesick, or maybe finally regretting to have left her haven. Well, he was right by about half. Still, she appreciated the friendly gesture and turned her head back in her original position; the side of her head barely pressing against his upper back. What she could have gone without, though, were the harmless, but a tad annoying, strands of pure blonde hair whipping at her face.

She then thought about the three acquaintances she had just made: Gimli, Legolas and Aragorn. Even if Lossiel was from Mirkwood, she wasn't as narrow-minded as many of them Wood-Elves. She had traveled so much, had met so many different people and had had to deal with so many different situations that she had grown out of despising the race of Dwarves. Besides, as the group had been conversing only a few hours earlier, she had quickly started to like Gimli.

His previous humours remarks had lightened up her mood and had made her smile. She had also been sympathetic about his unease in her beloved forest, and while they had been walking to the tree-line to meet up with Shadowfax, Hasufel and Arod, she had tried her best to lift his spirits, or at least make him less tense. She hadn't needed to see his death grip on his axe to know: she had easily sensed it. Not only that, but the trees had felt a bit threatened by his grip on his weapon and hadn't hesitated to voice their own discomfort and anger, as the other Elf had put to words. She had tired to reassure the Dwarf as she told him that none of the trees would dare try anything. She knew them; most of them were softies inside. They just didn't like to show it to strangers. It had somewhat worked, but he still hadn't let go of his weapon. She had also tried so spark a conversation to keep his mind off of them, but it had grown dead not too long afterwards.

She hadn't noticed the small smiles tugging at the lips of the other three in their company while had done so.

Her thoughts then shifted towards the man riding over on Gandalf's other side. While she had been observing them in her hiding place, she could have guessed that he was the trio's leader. Since the other two had let him done most of the talking a few moments after, it only confirmed her hypothesis. Now, though, he had deliberately handed over his position to the White Wizard.

For know, she figured that he was kind and loyal, and she also took notice of this regal aura of respect that was emanating from him. That aura had only grown stronger when he had risen after their rather extensive conversation. Lossiel really had felt like it hadn't been a Ranger in front of her at that time, but a great king. During their introduction, he had said he was Isildur's heir. She could put two and two together, she still remembered most of her historical readings all these centuries ago.

Then, the intoxicating aroma of crushed pine needles distracted her from her thoughts. It had been faint all long, but somehow, it suddenly became stronger. They had halted.

"There lies the Gap of Rohan," Gandalf informed them, looking out at the horizon of the grass plain. The long, tender green blades tickled Lossiel's knees as she considerably loosened her grip on the Elf in front of her, looking out at the crimson of the setting sun. "It is now almost west of us. That way lies Isengard." he continued.

She blinked a few times as she saw something dark grey, almost black, rising from the treacherous land. "There is much smoke over there," she solemnly pointed out.

"What may that be?" Legolas asked the Wizard.

"Battle and war," he grimly replied. "Ride on!"

They quickly urged their mounts to go on, and the She-Elf tightened once more her grasp on the other, not wanting to fall off from both speed and inaptitude. It crossed her mind that she greatly preferred walking over riding a horse, but she wouldn't be picky. They needed haste; she had rarely needed it herself lately. Living in Fangorn Forest for so long does that to you. She wondered what could possibly be unfolding in Isengard, but on second thought, no, she didn't want to know.

For the rest of the day, — more like evening — Lossiel was lost in her thoughts. I won't divulge them to you, not yet, at least. Give a girl some privacy...

Anyways, when Gandalf finally made them halt for the night, it was safe to say everyone was relieved. Muscles were stiff from the ride, legs; numb, and a certain She-Elf was glad to stand on land once more. She didn't shiver when the chilly wind picked up since temperature like this hardly had any effect on her race. She was relieved, though, that it wouldn't hinder a small fire. The night was thick, but the merry flames danced as they licked the few branches they had with them and illuminated their camp with a soft orange glow.

She wondered for a second why fire was that colour... She knew it could turn purple, green and blue, but she couldn't remember why.

Their company was tired, this much was obvious, but its stage depended on the person. For instance, Gandalf seemed perfectly fine and he even offered to stand watch. Gimli was exhausted and already snoring loudly, while Aragorn wasn't close behind, —except for that last 'snoring' part. Legolas was tired as well, but not nearly as much as the others. That didn't mean he wasn't enjoying his half-waking rest — or at least that's what the other Elf thought. She had offered to stand guard with the Wizard as well, seeing as she hadn't been running for the past few days.

That was where she was now, sitting next to the White Wizard, looking out at the equally white stars dotting the black of the sky. She didn't have much to think about anymore. There weren't any trees to speak to, nor any small plants or flowers to converse with or even comfort. Even the sky seemed dull to her.

She didn't notice she had sighed until Gandalf spoke up, in a hushed voice as to not wake the others, "Much weights upon your mind."

Blinking a few times, she half-smiled before she sighed once more, glancing at him. She lowered her voice as well. "Is it _that_ obvious?" It was clear that she wished anything but to talk about her worries.

The old Wizard chuckled at her expected answer. "The apple does not fall far from the tree," he simply told her, making her smile.

She then plucked out a few long blades of grass and started expertly weaving a little snowflake as she replied, "I have a hard time believing that," she replied, even though she knew he was only referring to the fact that her father could be read like an opened book. "I never pictured my father adventuring all across Middle-Earth."

"That does not mean he never has, but you already know it is such," he replied with another chuckle, before his hushed town grew more serious. "He worries, you know. Your whole family does. Why have you not visited them since your departure?" He knew the answer, but she must have had a change of heart by now...

Lossiel's mood darkened as she suddenly stopped her small confection. She wasn't angry, but she wasn't happy anymore either. She kept quiet, but she resumed her artwork as the elder shook his head in disapproval. She paid him no attention as he did so. None of them noticed the previously resting Wood-Elf sit up as he curiously watched the two. They their backs to him, and he rested one of his arms on his propped up knee.

"Lady Galadriel mentioned you before I set off to Fangorn's Forest," Gandalf broke, seeing as the girl wouldn't give him a reply.

"Wha… What did she say?" she nervously asked, her mood drastically changing as she remembered the dark words she had sent to Legolas and to Aragorn, not to mention the odd ones for Gimli.

"She had a message for you as well, care to hear it?"

Lossiel simply nodded, not daring to trust her own words. What if the Lady of Light would confirm her nagging suspicions—?

_"Lossiel, has snow already wearied thou?  
__Or rather, its chilling kiss upon thy brow?  
__Though the call of the unknown rings strong,  
__So does the esteemed sentiment to belong.  
__If thou fallest, do not hesitate to reach out,  
__For the caught hand is true beyond doubt."_

"Oh..." was the She-Elf could muster, not quite sure what to think. She realized that when the Lady's words were meant for you, you couldn't quite put your finger on their meaning even if they seemed quite straightforward. "Thank you," she still managed, fidgeting with her finished work of art.

"She also had this for you," the other said, smiling at her verbalized appreciation, as he took out from one of his pockets a small wrapped bundle.

It was roughly the size of his hand, a bit bigger, almost shaped like a square and flat, maybe a few centimetres thick. There wasn't any point in asking him what it was, for it was plain to see that it hadn't been opened before. She gingerly took it from him, and was surprised that it was heavier than she first thought it would be. It was still pretty light, thought, and it was also rigid.

Carefully, she began to slowly rid the curious bundle of its mallorn leaf wrapping, only to find a dark navy blue leather-bound book. Well, she would only take note of its colour when the Sun's light would beat down onto it the next morning. It had snowflake engravings on its spine, which overflowed by a few centimetres on both sides of the cover. Every snowflake was uniquely designed, shining sweet silver against the moonlight on the smooth leather surface of the book. It had strong slender strings to tie it shut, but they seemed to lose themselves into the leather, leaving no traces nor lumps in the book's design.

Turning the hard cover page with delicate fingers, Lossiel noticed that, even though the pages seemed to be silver when the book was shut, they were pure white and smooth as satin. It turned out that only the pages' edges were silver. On its first page, it was written in its centre, in Elvish and in the prettiest handwriting she had ever seen, _'To immortalize sweet melodies, with a quill that never empties.' _There was no need of any signature, for the She-Elf knew it had been written by the Lady of Lothlórien herself.

Since she hadn't seen a quill, she looked inside the mallorn wrapping that had been left intact — for she had slid the book out of it — and then found the aforementioned writing instrument. Its colour perfectly marched her new leather-bound book, and so did the intricate snowflake designs engraved on its cap. There was a thin silver ring that visually separated the quill pen's slender body from its cap when they were connected, and Lossiel carefully unscrewed them, only to find its oddly-shaped silver pointed tip. Never before had she seen such writing instrument, nor did she know how to call it, but the simple and familiar term _'quill' _was perfectly fine for her.

"What a curious instrument," the Wizard thoughtfully said. "May I?"

Nodding, she carefully handed her what she had just received. Gandalf observed the odd tube-like instrument, deducting its purpose. "I would say the ink is stored in this, here," he said, showing her the tube.

She nodded, since she had drawn the same conclusion. "The tip, here, is like a feather's. The ink trickles down to it, I believe. The Lady wrote that it would not deplete."

"A valuable gift indeed."

Lossiel could only nod in agreement as he gave her her priceless quill back. "I shall thank her in person, once this war is over." She looked up at the wizard and said, "Thank you, Mithrandir. I can only imagine that you had accepted my offer to join you because the Lady of Light had told you so."

He chuckled, making her narrow her eyes in confusion. "No, actually, it is she that had foretold that I would accept it. She simply made the best of it," he replied. "You remember what she told you the first time you met?"

_"A friend of Gandalf's is also a friend of mine," _she replied in a reminiscing tone and a content smile. She could never forget her kind words.

"Yes," he then kindly replied. "Now, off to bed, young lady. We leave in a few hours' time, and rest you shall need."

It was at that point the elven prince laid back down, feigning elven rest.

"But I am keeping watch with you!" she protested, her hushed voice rising a bit.

"I appreciate it, but your muscles still need the rest," he insisted. "The ground may not be quite as inviting as an old tree's strong branch, but it suffices just as much."

"Alright, alright..." she resigned, since he had voiced much of her own thoughts. She stood up, bringing her book, her quill and the wrapping leaves with her as she said, "Good watch, I shall see you in the morning."

He hummed a response as she walked away, noticing the grass snowflake she had forgotten behind. He smiled at how much better she had grown at these since the last time he saw her as he gently took it in his fingers. His smile faded when another thought crossed his mind. Lady Galadriel was right; she has been in Fangorn Forest for too long, practically wasting away without even noticing it were so.

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**A.N.**** Thanks for reading! Now you know a bit more about Lossiel, and I'm sure you can guess what her name means in Sindarin. XD Anyways, what did you think? Was this chapter boring or not? :3 Too slow, too fast, or just right? Any objections or pointers so far about my OC's personality? I'd love to know, and constructive criticism is ****always**** welcomed~ :3 Oh, and I'm so proud of it! It was the first time I ever wrote one! XD**

**BTW, Fangorn's **_**'quote' **_**comes from what Pirate Roberts says once in Assassin's Creed: Black Flag. You know, **_**"Tales that turned into rumour […] before fading away entirely." **_**I just had to~**


	3. Chapter Three - The Golden Hall Meduseld

**Chapter Three ~ The Golden Hall, Meduseld**

Lossiel was woken up by the sensation of having her arm gently shaken. Opening her eyes, she noticed that the Moon was still high up in the sky. She looked beside her, turning her head to the side, only to find Aragorn crouching next to her. As she sat up straight, she realized that he was handing her a piece of bread wrapped in — wait, was that lembas bread? She smiled as her thoughts shifted towards memories of back home, only to end with her thanking the Ranger in Sindarin.

Thinking that he wouldn't understand her, she immediately related her verbal appreciation in the Common Speech. Her eyes widened as he replied in Elvish.

"You can speak Sindarin?" she slowly asked, not knowing how else to verbalize it.

She stood up as he did, and then she passed the strap of her dark leather messenger bag over her head. She had nuts and dried fruits in it, but it could wait for another time; the bread would fill her faster, and they needed to be quick.

"Yes, I do," he simply replied with a smile. "I was raised by Elves, and I have to admit, I have never heard of one that slept with their eyes closed."

She gave him a smile as she fastened her cloak back on, still gently holding onto the Elvish bread. "I was curious about that, and I gave it a try," she admitted. "I simply grew to like it, truth be told," she added with a shrug.

He nodded, and he probably thought that they should leave soon for he half smiled goodbye before he headed towards Hasufel. The She-Elf hastily took a few bites from the bread, storing it in her bag as she headed towards Arod. Legolas had just settled on his horse when she reached him, and he extended his arm to help her up. She took it with a grateful smile and mounted the noble horse, and the company was off yet again.

Lossiel was dressed in a dark leather armour, one she had been taking great care of even in her home in Fangorn Forest, and she had one hardy leather bracer on her left arm, while she wore a simple, long leather gauntlet on the other. There was a thin, but strong and resistant chainmail concealed in between the two layers of leather. There were colourless vines and leaves engraved in parts of the leather. She also fashioned an Elven cloak, a green Mirkwood's maple leaf-shaped brooch fastening it.

To her belt hung two odd-looking black daggers; their hilt was about three centimetres in diameter, tube-like, rather long — maybe twice the length of her hand — and had navy blue leather strips haphazardly wrapped around it to most likely help her keep her grip during a heated battle. Sheathed, you couldn't tell, but their blades were shaped like two juxtaposed curvy diamonds, hollow in the middle: it followed the blades's outside line so it was about two centimetres wide.

_Anyways_, Gandalf had told them that they would reach the capital during the day, which was a comforting thought. Even with the few hours' rest, it was plain to see that it hadn't been enough for anyone, even the Elves. Yeah, you read me, Lossiel had grown tired as well. She wasn't used to this kind of lifestyle anymore. The two Rohirric horses were obviously exhausted, but pride and determination helped them keep up with the Mearas. Talking about exhaustion, Gimli would have plummeted to the earth if the Wizard hadn't pulled him back properly on Shadowfax. The poor Dwarf was nodding off so much it had become practically dangerous.

"Look!" the Wizard exclaimed, as his white steed suddenly halted.

The tired riders lifted their gazes to what laid before them, their weariness seemingly fading as they took everything in. Hills and valleys rose and dug below the tender green grass, which had by now greatly diminished in length, while mountains painted the slowly waking sky. In the distance, Lossiel could see the familiar Golden Hall beaming upon a cliff-like hill deep within the capital city of Edoras. To be honest, she never quite understood why gold was so valuable. Wasn't silver a much more attractive colour than shiny yellow?

It was Gandalf that broke the awe-filled silence as he asked, "Legolas, Lossiel, what do you see?"

That's when she remembered only her and her co-rider could actually distinguish Rohan's capital from that distance. The male Elf started describing the city and the great hall before them, without forgetting to point out the sleepy appearance of the city. The female then took over with a thoughtful frown. She admitted that there were many more guards on duty in the wee hours of morning than the last time she had visited. Even if it had been about half a century ago, such drastic changes were rarely seen if nothing had gone amiss recently.

"War is abroad. Draw no weapon, speak no haughty words, I counsel you all, until we are come before Théoden's seat." the White Wizard told them all, and they all nodded.

Once his counselling had been voiced, Gandalf sprang Shadowfax to swiftly continue and the other two horses followed suit. Lossiel was taken aback by such a swift motion and tightly clung onto Legolas for a few, short seconds, just enough for the shock to subdue.

It didn't take too long to reach the stream leaking down from the snowy mountains in the distance. They followed a trail, which had most likely been traced by horses' hooves, and they came across mounds of earth. White flowers bloomed upon them, and she listened as Gandalf explained that they were called everminds and only grew where dead men rested, buried under black dirt. Aragorn started signing in a language she didn't understand, but she could easily tell that it was in the Rohirric language. Shortly after, he told them what the lyrics meant in the Common Speech. Lossiel wondered just how many languages he could speak!

The five travellers then continued up the trail, which led to the capital city's front gates, where they were greeted in the least friendliest way possible; in a language none but the Ranger understood and a harsh, cutting tone. The She-Elf leaned to the side so she could take a look at the guards. She simply watched as the Ranger and some of the guards exchanged words. She could pick up a few trivial words, but that was it. Well, up until the conversation switched to the Common Speech.

"Wormtongue?" Gandalf suddenly interrupted once one of the guards mentioned such a figure. "My errand is to the Lord of the Mark himself. Will you not go or send to say that we have come?" It was clear in his voice that his patience was wearing thin, if you couldn't see his eyes for some reason.

"Yes, I will go," one of the guards replied, slowly. "But what names shall I report?"

"I am Gandalf. I have returned," he replied. "Here beside me is Aragorn son of Arathorn, the heir of kings. Here also are Legolas the Elf, Lossiel the She-Elf and Gimli the Dwarf, our comrades. Go now and say to your master that we are here to converse with him."

Lossiel couldn't help but smile.

"I will report you as you bid, and learn my master's will," he replied, before he left them in the company of the other guards, who watched them with wary eyes. It didn't take too long before he came back and said, "Follow me! Théoden gives you leave to enter, but any weapons that you bear must be left on the threshold. The doorwardens will keep them."

The city's gates were swung open and let the five travellers enter. They then walked in line with their guide, and some of the woken citizen watched them as they passed by. Lossiel felt a little nervous since she wasn't used to such attention. Last time she came, it had been more like _'get in, walk around a bit, swipe this, swipe that, get out'_. Yes, she had slight kleptomaniac tendencies and truth be told, it's somewhat of a complicated matter. She had never been in Meduseld, though.

They walked for a while until they reached some stairs, stairs that led up to the Golden Hall. They climbed up and when they reached the top, the doors' guards stood up, tall and proud.

"There are the doors before you," the guard, who had served them as a guide, told the travellers. He then bid them goodbye and wished them the grace of his Lord, only to turn around and head back to his post at the gates.

The watchmen courteously greeted them in their own language as they pointed the hilt of their blades as a sign of respect and peace. One of the guards took a step forward and spoke up in the Common Speech so they could all understand, "I am the Doorward of Théoden. Háma is my name. I must bid you lay aside your weapons before you enter."

Legolas gave him his silver knives, his quiver and his bow, telling him to be careful with them, since Galadriel had given them to him. The man seemed to be afraid to hold them, laid them next to the wall and then promised him that no man would touch them. Lossiel didn't know if it was whether because the Elf was her prince or because she had faith in him, — relying on someone else for two days straight tends to do that to someone — she begrudgingly unsheathed her beloved blades and handed them to Háma as well.

Aragorn didn't want to part from his sword, Andúril.

"Aragorn?" Lossiel broke in before the argument got heated. He looked back at her — actually, everyone did, but she paid them no mind. "My own weapons may not be worthy of comparison to yours but they hold much value to me, for they were crafted by my own father as a parting gift. Yet, I trust them to the Doorward." She wasn't going to mention the blade hidden in her bracer, though. There's a reason as to why it was called 'a hidden blade'.

Aragorn thought about her words as Gandalf handed the man Glamdering. Then, he unbuckled his belt and set Andúril himself against the wall, warning the others that only him should touch that sword, unless they had a death wish. Then Gimli laid his axe on the floor, saying that if Aragorn's sword was there, so would be his own weapon, shameless. Gandalf, though, refused to part with his ashen staff, claiming it was a mere walking stick.

Háma hesitated, but he trusted his wisdom for he trusted the Wizard and saw no harm in letting him keep it. "You may go in," he said, motioning them to step inside the slowly opening heavy doors.

The insides of the Golden Hall truly was a sight to see. There were many wooden pillars reaching the high ceiling, where light nearly reached it. Stones paved the floors of many shades, runes and many odd trinkets depicted between them. Sunlight pierced through high windows and shone on some of the many tapestries which hung upon the walls, while others dwelled in half-light.

The five companions continued on through the hall, only to halt in front of an upswept dais. It was at the hall's end and constituted of three steps. In its middle, there was a great throne, on which one could only guess King Théoden sat. He looked rugged, old and weak, but his eyes shone so brightly it was practically frightening. His white beard reached his knees and his snow white hair was disheveled and really thin. Behind his chair, there stood a tall, fair lady clad in a beautiful white dress, her long, wavy blonde locks cascading down her back. Hunched by his side, there was a greasy-haired pale man who was all dressed in black. Lossiel had to admit, the colour of his turquoise irises were a bit nice, but that was _it. _

Nobody spoke. The silence was heavy.

"Hail, Théoden son of Thengel!" Gandalf broke. "I have returned. The storm comes, and now all friends should gather together, lest each singly be destroyed."

The old man slowly rose to his feet, painfully slowly that is, as he leaned on a short black stick — a bone was attached to it and served as a handle. Years seemed to be heavy on him, for his shoulders were dangerously slumped.

"You have ever been a herald of woe. Troubles follow you like crows, and ever the oftener the worse," the king's voice echoed through the hall. Even if it sounded weak, it still held regal power. "Why should I welcome you, Gandalf Stormcrow?" That's when he sat back down.

Lossiel could feel anger bubble in her veins, but she remembered what Gandalf had told them when she and Legolas could see the Golden Hall from afar. She could sense such a feeling in the others as well, but only the two Elves didn't show it, even in the slightest, upon their features.

"You speak justly, lord," the pale man said. "Why indeed should we welcome you, Master Stormcrow? _Láthspell _I name you. Ill news is an ill guest."

"Keep your forked tongue behind your teeth," he replied, his patience already quite thinned. "I have not passed through fire and death to bandy crooked words with a serving-man till the lightning falls."

The thunder rolled as he raised his staff, sunlight no longer beating down unto Medusled. The whole hall was left in darkness, for even the fires were dimmed down. Only Gandalf was visible in this darkness, his grey cloak thrown to the ground, and he shone tall in his white garb.

"Did I not counsel you, lord, to forbid his staff?" Wormtongue grimly said, looking behind him, only for a bright flash of light, as if lightning had struck near the hall in which they were standing, to interrupt anything else he might have wanted to say as he fell to the floor.

Silence once again had fallen upon the king's hall.

Gandalf asked Théoden if he would heed his counsel, telling him that there is light even in darkness. Light in darkness: that made Lossiel stare at the ground in deep thoughts. He also asked the king to stand — to look at his lands with his own eyes for he had relied on others' for far too long.

Rising with hesitant steps, the king left his chair. The woman that had been silently standing behind him all that time came to support him, helping him in his unsteady walk. They softly paced across the hall, towards the heavy doors. The She-Elf hadn't moved, so Legolas, who had happened to have been standing next to her, kindly tugged at her arm to pull her out of her thoughts. She flinched and glanced at him, only to look behind and see Gandalf and the king standing outside the hall. They then followed them close behind.

"That may be. I will do as you ask," she heard the king say, but she had no idea what they were talking about. She noticed the Rohirim lady was gone.

Gandalf and Théoden exchanged a few words about what they should do for the days to come. Not knowing exactly what to do, the female glanced around until she noticed that the other Elf was straining his eyes westward. She, too, strained to looked in that direction out of curiosity, but all she could see was nature. Wait, was that a wisp of floating fire, in the faraway distance…? W-Was that the…?

* * *

**A.N. You gotta admit, Skyrim's Whiterun practically _is _Edoras. You gotta admit! Even their emblem's a horse! XD Anyways, yeah, that part came quickly; I stayed at home sick today. I apologize for how short this is (it's lacking two hundred words for it to reach my quota) but... I didn't want to make it too boring. I just stared at the screen, thinking, and simply ****decided to end it there. Objections and/or constructive criticism are always welcomed! Have a nice day~ :3**


	4. Chapter Four - Preparations for War

**Chapter Four ~ Preparations for War**

Salad she would have greatly preferred, but Lossiel wasn't about to complain. She was grateful that there were many fruits before her, and she even discreetly tossed an apple or two in her bag, for good measure. The cheese was good too; it was something she just realized she had missed. Now, her and the others — Gimli, Aragorn, Legolas and Gandalf — were given some food and drink before they would set out to fight Isengard's forces, as the Wizard had previously counselled the king to do.

She drew random designs on the long wooden table as she thought about what had just transpired; she was more like the type that kept quiet unless spoken to. Théoden now looked healthy and seemed to have had years washed away from him. His shoulder-length blonde hair was shiny and thick, and so was his equally golden beard, which now was much shorter. Wrinkles had smoothed away and much strength had been given back to his previously frail muscles.

Éomer had been dismissed from his unfair imprisonment and Gríma had left, sent crawling back to the treacherous Saruman. Théoden and his army were to go to Helm's Deep, and so were Lossiel and the others. They were now sitting by the king's board for a quick meal before they would depart. Only Théoden and Gandalf were talking for the moment. Éomer hadn't spoken up about her presence, but Lossiel could tell he was a bit confused about it. Gandalf was there, so she figured he thought she turned up the same way as the Wizard did, or something quite similar.

"Lossiel?" she heard Legolas start from her right in a slightly hushed voice, making her halt her traced drawings as she looked back at him. "You have mentioned your father had crafted your blades, is he a blacksmith?" he asked. "I have never seen such weapons before."

"Yes, he is," she replied with a small smile. "I possess a creative mind, truth be told," she justified, insinuating that her daggers had been thought up by her.

"Drawing weapons!" Gimli, who sat on Legolas' other side, interjected. "That must be the last thing I would imagine an Elf-maiden do on her spare time."

That made said 'Elf-maiden' chuckle. "My little brother often asked me to think up of odd weapons for him to attempt to craft — for he was an aspiring blacksmith back then. I was, and still am, the most imaginative of us two," she explained.

There was one thing that troubled the other Elf. Well, confused would better fit the current situation, but it isn't the best term either... Last night, Lossiel had been reluctant to speak of her family with Gandalf, whom she seems to know and trust badly — she even stayed silent and categorically refused to speak. And yet, now, she smiled as she contradicted her previous actions with Gimli and himself. Aragorn seemed to listen to what she was saying as well.

"Was a blacksmith's work your own wish as well?" he asked her.

"No, guard duty tends to get dull and repetitive," she replied, gently shaking her head at the same time, her smile still curling her lips. "I thought about them—"

"—And to you, my other guests, I will offer such things as may be found in my armoury," Théoden told them, loud enough to interrupt their practically quiet conversation, as he looked over at them. He didn't have the slightest idea that he had interrupted the female Elf. "Swords you do not need, but we possess coats of mail of great work. Chose from ere we go, and may they serve you well!"

Lossiel's gaze shifted towards some of the large room's doors — many metallic sounds echoed from there. It didn't take too long before men came through it while bearing armfuls of battle equipment. One of the men handed her a few small sets of chainmail, most likely of different sizes, and then gave her directions to a small room for her to change in. To be honest, she doubted that the metal tunics would fit her lithe female Elven body, but she still thanked him before she headed over there.

She, somewhat nervously, found the small room and slipped off both her cloak and her leather armour once she had set down the mails and locked the door behind her. She thought about how long it has been since the last time she wore that same dark leather as her gaze danced across its engraved leafy details. She shook her head to clear her thoughts, and that's when she noticed a tall, slim mirror leaning against a wall in the wooden room, making her head towards it. She still wore her thin undershirt and leather bottoms, by the way.

She stared at her own reflexion, noticing that the scar near her scalp Gandalf had told her she had recently gotten was now gone. Her skin was fully healed, even over such a short period of time, thanks to her Elven blood. She then looked straight into her navy blue eyes, which surprised her with their dullness. She smiled at herself, hoping to see some brightness somewhere, but only found none. She didn't feel at all like what her reflexion gave her, did she always look _that_ depressed?

She shook her head once more to clear her thoughts and she pulled the metallic tunic over her undershirt. She looked back at herself in the tall golden mirror, sticking out her tongue at herself — a little habit she childishly grew into — as she thought it was far too large for her. She took it back once she noticed the piece of clothing practically hugged her curves, if not for the few centimetre difference.

They had mail specifically for women? Shieldmaidens! Of course!

With renewed enthusiasm, she tried on another, and another, until she settled on the one that made her feel less like she was floating it it. It was a pretty close match, truth be told. She put back on her leather armour, and she smiled in satisfaction when it seemed better to wear as such. She stretched a bit to make sure her movements weren't hindered by it.

She passed a hand through her long blonde locks, softening them from what had just transpired and admiring her new military look from the mirror. She gently held onto her daggers' hilts to reassure herself that she remembered their grip's feeling, and stressed a bit from her recent fighting inactivity. She took a deep breath, telling herself that as long as she wasn't alone, surrounded by enemies, she should be fine.

A knock pulled her out of her thoughts, making her look back at the locked door. "Lossiel, are you there?" she heard Legolas' clear voice echo through the wood.

She didn't answer until she shortly opened the door. "As a matter of fact, I am," she told him as she turned around to gather the larger sets of silver mail at the mirror's foot. "I apologize for taking too long," she added as she arrived at her destination.

"Nay, I should apologize for intruding," he replied as she walked back next to him. He reached to hold onto some of the mails for her. "The king had also kindly offered us helms and shields, I simply wished to inform you," he added with a kind smile.

"Thank you," she told him, not voicing the confusion she felt as to why he had sought her out to tell her that, and not once she would have been back.

She didn't have to wonder for too long, for Legolas suddenly blurted out, "Why did you not mention your mother, earlier?" He didn't sound accusing or anything, he was simply innocently asking.

"Because no one asked," she shrugged. Legolas could have said that no one asked about her brother, but he figured Gimli indirectly had. Knowing where the conversation was heading, Lossiel said, "She is high up somewhere in Mirkwood's military, I reckon." She then slightly tilted her head to the side. "Why the sudden interest in my family?" was that innocent question of her own.

"I was only curious," he answered. "I wish to know you better, not only as Mithrandir's friend."

That's when the She-Elf's gaze slightly narrowed. "Yes, because family dictates one's psychological traits," she dryly replied, starting for the opened door.

"Wait," he said in Sindarin, effectively halting her light steps, as he learnt the hard way what troubled her. "That is far from what I meant," he continued in that same language. The girl turned around, silently telling him she was listening to him, but her lifeless expression hadn't changed. "Knowing one's family may help acquaintances, what was the environment in which they grew up and such. It is but a mere guide, at first, from which learnt traits spring."

It took a few moments for his words to sink in, but Lossiel had to admit that he was right, a twitched half-smile remaining onto her lips. "You do have a point, Legolas," she replied in Sindarin as well. Her gaze traveled across the room before she cleared her throat. "I uh, apologize, f-for drawing my conclusions too swiftly," she told him, risking her eyes towards his cerulean gaze.

He smiled at her. "There is nothing to forgive," he said. "Let us go," he then told her, still not switching back to the Common Speech.

She nodded and they went back towards the main hall, exchanging a few words and smiles about their previous horseback ride. Aragorn wore a new coat of mails and held a helm, and Gimli wore a new leather iron-enforced cap, his dwarvish mail much better than the Gondorian one that he had been offered. He held a round shield that fitted his stature, and so did the Ranger.

Gandalf was speaking with Théoden once more and with a few more men, but he still took notice of the two Elves' return and sent a smile their way. Once she had given back her extra sets of mail, Lossiel only chose a helm for herself; a shield would only hinder her double wielding. So did Legolas.

"Receive this cup and drink in happy hour." Éowyn spoke up after a while, holding onto a golden cup filled to the brim with crimson wine. "Health be with thee at thy going and coming!"

She handed the cup to her king first, and he drank from it. The five guests all stood in a line to receive it in turn. Éowyn paused in front of Aragorn, hailing him, and he did the same to her, only, he seemed troubled afterwards. When it was her turn, Lossiel gave her a small smile — she felt like it was what one did in this odd situation. When the guests all had a sip of the alcoholic beverage, Théoden went back towards the hall's doors to speak with some men. The She-Elf held no interest in politics so she didn't even try to listen to what was exchanged over there.

Instead, she looked around and thought about the upcoming battle. She knew that, in human society, females weren't treated equally compared to their male counterparts, but the people here didn't seem to mind her presence. Then again, they had shieldmaidens... She could easily see people glance at her ears — she figured the same was happening to Legolas — but she pretended not to notice even though all she wanted to do right now was to pull up her hood over her features and hide from plain sight. Yes, she could do that, but she wouldn't.

She forced the focus of her thoughts to shift, and that's when the floating fire she had glimpsed a mere hour or two earlier surfaced in her mind. She felt sick to her stomach to have seen Sauron's eye, even from that great distance. She grimaced once more at the thought.

"Something troubling you?" she heard a oh-so-familiar voice inquire from in front of her, making her gaze lock with her interlocutor's as relief already washed over her.

"Nay, no troubles, Mithrandir, only simple unease," she truthfully replied with a slight sigh.

"Yes, civilization tends to have that effect at first," the Wizard jested, even if it held a bit of truth.

It made Lossiel softly laugh before she seriously said, growing a bit grim, "I believe I may have seen... _His _eye." She didn't feel like saying 'Sauron' at the moment.

Gandalf turned serious as well. "Yes, Legolas informed me as much earlier. Do not worry too much, for many leagues separates us from him."

The She-Elf nodded and half-smiled in appreciation. "Thank you," she told him.

Gandalf nodded in turn, only to look at his right. Lossiel did the same and she noticed that Théoden was making his way back to his seat, only for Éowyn to kneel before him once he was seated. He gave her a rather pretty corset and a sharp-looking sword.

"Farewell, sister-daughter!" the king told his niece. "Dark is the hour, yet maybe we shall return to the Golden Hall. If the battle goes ill, thither will come all who escape."

"Speak not so!" she replied, looking up at him. "A year I shall endure for every day that passes until your return," she added as her gaze shifted towards Aragorn, who stood not too far from them.

"The king shall come again," he said. "Fear not! Not West, but East does our doom await us."

_'And I saw it...'_ bitterly thought Lossiel.

Then, Gandalf walked in tow with the king as he descended the stairs connecting the hall to the rest of the city. The others all followed close behind. Lossiel looked behind her, wanting to see Meduseld once more, and that's when she noticed Éowyn standing there, overlooking all of them. She was garbed in shining silver mail and she held onto the carefully decorated hilt of her new sword, its blade perpendicularly meeting the platform's floor.

The She-Elf was walking beside Legolas and Gimli, who was on the Elf's other side. With their previous conversation, she felt a bit more comfortable around the Mirkwood Elf than the others, but she also figured that the simple fact that they were the only two elves around helped as well. That they hailed from the same place only further proved her point. It would do for now, at least.

"At last we set off!" she heard Gimli exclaim, earning himself her attention. "Men need many words before deeds. My axe is restless in my hands, but how shall I come to battle? I wish I could walk and not bump like a sack at Gandalf's saddle-bow," he continued, looking up at the Elf next to him.

"A safer seat than many, I guess," Legolas replied, looking down at him.

Lossiel wanted to join the conversation, to tell him that she, too, was apprehensive about the imminent horseback ride. Words refused to leave her lips, so she contended herself with humming in agreement with the other instead.

"Yet doubtless Gandalf will gladly put you down on your feet when blows begin. An axe is no weapon for a rider," he continued with a smile.

"And a Dwarf is no horseman," the other replied.

"Neither is an isolated Elf," Lossiel finally added her two pennies' worth as she first wanted to. She smiled at Gimli as she added, "It is even more embarrassing when you are expected to know how to ride — which I do not." She added that last part with a nervous chuckle.

"Yes, I have noticed," Legolas replied with a smirk, making the other gasp in childish mock indignation, a hand on her chest. By the Valar, what would Gandalf— Good, he hadn't been paying attention. She was never doing that again… "You can ride with me again," he offered.

Her act had been dropped for a while now, so she appreciatively smiled at him and nodded, thanking him in their native language, to which he replied in the same language that it was nothing. This Sindarin exchange earned them both a mumbled _'Sneaky Elves and their secrets' _from a mock disgruntled Dwarf, but only ended up in making them all chuckle.

It didn't take much more time for them to reach the city's gates, where there already were many men mounted and ready to ride onwards towards battles. Lossiel could estimate that more than a thousand were mounted before them, sharp and well-tended spears tight in their hands. They shouted with joy and pride at their king's sight as he came before them. A few men were standing, holding onto few horses' bridles, namely the king's steed, Arod and Hasufel. There was one more horse, one that the She-Elf figured was for her, for it didn't have a saddle nor a bridle, similar to Arod.

There she stood, mimicking Gimli's ill at ease expression. She really needed to learn how to ride one of these, and she doubted words in the Silvan tongue would compensate for her lack of riding skills, it simply had been much too long. Before she could tell the man holding onto the other horse that she wouldn't need him — for she had accepted Legolas' kind offer — she felt herself being hoisted up onto a horse's bare back.

Looking down, she noticed she was on Arod's back and it didn't take much more time for Legolas to take his own spot, behind her this time. He explained that this way, if battle suddenly came to them, she would be able to fight as well instead of holding onto dear life in the heat of the fight. Still, she couldn't help but feel a bit embarrassed and asked him, if they found the time, if he could teach her how to ride on her own. It was a request to which he gladly obliged.

"Hail, Gimli, Glóin's son!" she heard from not too far behind her, making her crane her neck to see who was talking. "I have not had time to learn gentle speech under your rod, as you promised. But shall we not put aside our quarrel?"

Lossiel looked at Legolas with a puzzled light dancing in her irises, to which he replied, barely above a whisper, that he'd explain when they set off shortly.

"I will forget my wrath for a while, Éomer son of Éomund," Gimli answered. "but if ever you chance to see the Lady Galadriel with your own eyes, then you shall acknowledge her the fairest of ladies, or our friendship will end."

The She-Elf had an idea about what that 'quarrel' was about by now, truth be told, but she told herself that she wouldn't draw her conclusions too swiftly like last time. She would wait for the whole story.

"So be it!" Éomer replied with a nod. "But in that time, in token of pardon, ride with me, if you will."

"I thank you indeed," the other replied, obviously pleased with the outcome of recent events. "I will gladly go with you, if Legolas, my comrade, may ride with us."

"It shall be so," the Rohirrim said. "Legolas upon my left, and Aragorn upon my right, and none will dare to stand before us!" he concluded. Lossiel frowned at the failed mention of her name, only for it to be wiped out by, "Lossiel? Why are you not upon Rapidash?"

She was about to reply, but Gimli's tongue was quicker as he said in her stead, "Lassie here shares my inexperience with horses." This earned him a smile from her. "Even I know these creatures can feel your unease and will try to take advantage of it," he added.

Éomer nodded at that justification, seemingly satisfied with it, and told the men holding onto this aforementioned Rapidash to let it go back to the stables in their own language. Then, Gandalf asked about Shadowfax's whereabouts. The Fangorn Forest's Elf could guess what his own gift had been, for the Wizard wore no new apparel from the king's armoury. In addition, Théoden's words about the gift already been given only added to that assumption. Once he found himself on his beloved steed, Gandalf got rid of his grey apparel and found himself garbed, once more, in a white so pure that Lossiel could compare it to her namesake veiling the mountains.

"All hail the White Rider!" Aragorn shouted, only for the words to be repeated by the She-Elf and many more present.

And they all were then off towards Helm's Deep, still watched over by Edoras' new temporary Lord…

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**A.N. ****Rapidash. I had to. I just had to. XD I hope it made you laugh~ ;3 Anyways, here you go, I hope you liked it! How do you think things are going along? I'd love to know! Objections and/or constructive criticism are ****always**** welcomed! Have a nice day~ :3 **


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